


Snow

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Series: Happy Ending Guaranteed [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Likes Dean Winchester, College Student Castiel, Dean Winchester Likes Castiel, Drabbling, First Dates, High School Student Dean, Idiots in Love, M/M, Teenaged Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kevin, I swear, the next time a granny pinches my cheek and coos how cold I must be in this weather I’ll run inside and hide her dentures or knitting needles or whatever,” Dean grumbled.<br/>Dean works part time at Ellen's as a delivery boy. A certain blue eyed young man orders there, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Vienna has seen her first snow today, so here you go.  
> 

Dean likes his job. The pay is fair and the tips are usually between okay and awesome. Add the perk of Ellen feeding him on each shift has always been a terrific incentive to keep the job. Not that he’d throw it, nope. Especially since he’s been saving, for what seemed aeons.

While Dean really loves playing delivery boy for Ellen, today sucked. The weather forecast had mentioned a “slight drop of temperature, in accordance onset of winter” but of course the bastards were off by some ten degrees so it was -2°C now. Below the freezing point of water.

People prefer to order food delivered to their door instead of shuffling on layers and layers of clothing on days like this one. Well. He wouldn't complain too much about them ordering of course, it was a job security but... “Kev, I swear, the next time a granny pinches my cheek and coos how cold I must be in this weather I’ll run inside and hide her dentures or knitting needles or whatever,” Dean grumbled after returning from his previous tour, shaking off the cold and whatever droplets managed to stick to his cunning Jayne hat. “Dude, you look like a Labrador, with that red nose I’d even go so far and call you Rudolf,” Kevin flicked off a (certainly) imaginary droplet and grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, “I'm sure that helps with the older ladies.” Quickly ducking, Kevin avoided the damp gloves Dean threw at him, Dean reciprocating his smile.

“I made tea like two minutes ago, there’s still some hot water left,” Kevin continued, “And we have no new orders for now, so you can take your break now. In case an order should come in, I’ll go.”

“Thanks man,” gingerly pouring the still steaming water into a cup, Dean relished when feeling the warm air wafting up. He’d picked fennel tea and encloses the cup with both hands, the heat permeating through the ceramic just on this side of not yet painful.

The evening was relatively unspectacular. On his next shift he got pinched in the cheek twice, stuttered his way through quite an awkward conversation with a woman in her mid sixties dressed in suspended stockings and a corset and her husband's tie wrapped around her hand. While said husband was still attached to it. Kneeling. He managed to choke out a “Play safe!” before turning and speed-walking back to his car and mentally attempting to bleach his memory.

 

On weekdays, Ellen wouldn't allow high school students to work after ten.

Weekends though, that's were where the money was in, so Dean was happy spending every other Saturday night at the Roadhouse and was happy to skip in for others, too. In between deliveries he would even finish homework, so he pretty much got paid in food and money for studying, which was really awesome.

It was a busy night, and the weather had gradually turned worse when Castiel Novak placed an order. Dean had delivered to the guy a couple of times. Good tipper, that one. Gummy smile, always had the smell of cinnamon around him. Dean like his hands most though.

He maybe had two, perhaps three years on Dean. Not that Dean would have spend any amount of time thinking about the guy. Definitively. Not one thought about the smoothness of skin on the sharp cut jaw, the eyes that always seemed to drink in Dean (which Dean never ever would fantasise about), the irides blue colour so intense Dean absolutely made sure to never think of. Never. Especially not in the shower. Especially after Mr. Novak (“ _Cas, please, we’re basically the same age._ ”) had stepped into Dean’s space with an outstretched hand, on his lips and a firm handshake that might have lingered a few seconds too long for the social norm.

Dean was a tad disappointed that the food was collected by, “Gabriel, the handsome brother,” and not Castiel himself. He hadn't seen the guy for at least two weeks. Not that Dean was keeping tabs or anything. He wasn't pining, either.

 

A few days later, he had another delivery to Novak’s. It was the last for his shift, and as the weather had turned rather nasty, Ellen had told him he could drive back home immediately. He’d bring the money in on the following day, the Roadhouse wasn't too far off of his route between school and home.

“Cas, are you OK?” To say Dean was surprised to see Castiel, bundled up and standing outside of his building, would be an understatement. Cas’ nose was cherry red, and his cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, absolute joy evident in them.

Instead of answering, he laughed when he recognised Dean and said, “Look, I'm a dragon,” and breathed out slowly, only to hide his face behind his scarf after a very manly giggle escaped him. Dean was sure that the rosiness on the other boys cheeks was not only from the cold now. Obviously he had stared too long.

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled, now deflated, outstretched his hand to unburden Dean from his order, “snow just makes me so very happy. I'm told it’s unbecoming of someone my age to enjoy snow so much,” but then he looked Dean straight into the eye, “Though frankly I have decided just now that I do not care and don't wish to spend time with boorish people.”

 

“Wha- no, no, I can totally relate. This is my last delivery and on my way here I texted my brother to get ready for a snow fight tomorrow morning,” Dean grinned, “He doesn't know it yet, but I’ll take no prisoners tonight.”

 

He could tell that Castiel was smiling as the skin around his eyes - which were pretty much the only thing visible now - scrunched up.  
“Very well. Let me take this then,” Castiel replied, “So you can get home faster. Uh. That. I didn't mean to sound dismissive.”

“Nah, I've got time, Sammy doesn't-” the click from Dean's jaw snapping closed was audible in the silence of their surrounding. “I meant,” Dean scrambled his brains for some comeback that didn't sound needy, creepy, or would make his crush painfully public, “It’s fine. Yeah. Thanks mate, enjoy your meal.” _Well done, Losechester, well done_.

“Wait, Dean. Dean?” When Dean doesn't react, Castiel takes a deep breath and a few quick steps to the younger man.

“Dean. See, I ordered for two but my brother up and left just before you came, his girlfriend picked him up and I went to say Hi and then snow started falling and I stayed for a bit and then you came up. I'm babbling, damn. Look, what I meant to say,” now Cas huffed, and swallowed the screeching shut up you idiot that his brain most helpfully supplied and continued, “I have too much food now, and cannot possibly eat it again tomorrow. Would you take half of it?”

“I couldn't, I don’t have money on me to pay you ba-”

“Or we could eat together, that would be…,” Castiel replied without thinking before his brain had caught up with his mouth. He was sure that his eyes were just as wide as Dean's, and possibly even more shocked at his audacious request.

“I meant. No. Not creepy-like. Only. It’d be a waste of food and, uh, it’s sad to eat food like this on your own...” _For the love of God, would you please stop talking you’re digging your own grave._

“I’d like that,” Dean answers on autopilot since this is the only functioning part of him right now and in the same second his brain supplies a well placed, _What did you just say_ , but apparently his brain ought to shut it now because Cas is smiling and the snow makes everything look like magic so when Cas turns around and starts walking Dean stays right next to him and follows him up the two flights of stairs. Whoa. He's floating on... was it serotonin? Oxytocin? Happy hormones. Whatever.

 

They eat mostly in silence, complimenting the food and Castiel's extensive collection of books, and perhaps both are a bit bewildered with this unexpected impromptu pseudo-date, but the silence is not uncomfortable.

Dean goes home with a full stomach, a new number in his cell ( _immediately_ synced to Google) and a set proper date with Castiel on Friday night.

**Author's Note:**

> have a fluffy day, sorry this one isn't so fluffy. f*ck depression I fought with this ficlet for hourS (YES PLURAL) and actually am proud for making it out of the bed and onto my pc today. I don't even know if this stuff makes sense right now.


End file.
